Rage
by Rache-C
Summary: There was a reason Leopold Fitz hated violence so much... A drabble inspired by the moment in 1x08, The Well, where Ward turns on Fitz and Fitz flinches away from him. This piece explores inside the mind of the wonderful character that is Fitz, examining his past, present and his beautiful relationship with Jemma Simmons.


**Hi everyone! I recently got into Agents of SHIELD again in a big way (I'm still not over Turn, Turn, Turn) and needless to say I love the pairing of Fitzsimmons, I shipped it from the moment I saw them together and I love the way the show is exploring the endless possibilities for these two. This piece explores my ideas about Fitz and his past, because I love him as a character so much but it also looks at how he feels about life on the bus. Its set just after 1x08, The Well and also specifically mentions 1x06, F.Z.Z.T. but there are no spoilers for recent episodes (mainly because I live in the UK and we're behind!) Anyway I just wanted to share this with fellow fans! **

**I own nothing, it all belongs to Marvel! **

There was a reason Leopold Fitz disliked violence, and avoided confrontation as much as possible. And it wasn't because he was a coward, though he knew that's what people automatically assumed. Fitz had dark times in his past, something he had worked on putting behind him and he had been largely successful due to Simmons and their friendship.

But there were times in his past that continued to haunt him and Ward's recent Beserker rage fit, with his cruelly taunting and yet absolutely accurate observation had brought it all back. His own worst memories- and he hadn't needed to hold the Beserker staff to re-live them. Fitz earliest memory involved his parents. Given his father had left when he was seven years old, it was telling how much of a lasting impact early years with his parents had had on him. Despite the passage of sixteen years hence Fitz could still vividly remember that day: his parents, meters apart, screaming at each other, seemingly possessed with rage as they threw curses and traded insults in front of their young son. He watched fearfully as his father approached his mother and raised his fist crashing it down, knocking her to the floor. Leo had run to his aid, he had hated to see his mammy hurt, but he had then felt the full effect of being faced with his fathers anger and loathing, he had descended on Leo. And he had frozen. He had looked into the burning eyes of his father, seen the hatred there, and had been paralysed with fear and the realisation that he, Leo Fitz, had never been wanted, nor had ever been loved, by his own father. His mother had always tried to comfort him by loving him doubly but what did it say about him if even the man who had been a part of ensuring his existence hadn't been able to even stand the sight of him? Leo had been four years old at the time of this memory and had had to endure three more years of witnessing his parents at each others throats, watching from the shadows, cowering in fear as he saw the violence doled out by his father; he had vowed, repeatedly, to himself that he would never raise his hand to anyone, especially not a woman. He had learnt his lessons by watching his father and learning what to _not_ to do.

Leo had descended into isolation, finding solace in machines and gadgets, which would of course become his salvation. Because without this forced isolation his escape into his secret world whenever he heard arguments, he wouldn't have discovered that he had a knack for machines and figuring out how they worked, and how to repair them, came easily to him. While his parents were fighting World War III in their tiny Glaswegian terrace house, and even after his father had finally left them, it had helped him to stave off the deep-seated loneliness he couldn't seem to escape.

He threw himself into school work, becoming a self imposed loner because he didn't believe anyone would want to be his friend, and he found he enjoyed learning new things, though he had to teach himself most of the time because he often left his teachers floundering when faced with his enquiring mind and sky high IQ. His mental prowess, far beyond the capabilities of his working class comprehensive, and he was singled out early, skipping several school years, in classes with kids far older than himself, which did not help his awkward social skills.

He had got what he had desired since he was a toddler, when he finally for out of Glasgow through a scholarship to MIT. America should have been far enough to make a fresh start among people more his peers than any he had very encountered before, but even then his insecurities haunted him and helped him back. A few students tried to be his friend, but he clung to his comfort zone, his dour demeanour, to brush them off. He turned away everyone who tried to talk to him except the professors who had recognised his ground breaking ideas, and his success caught the attention of SHIELD, who recruited him to their Academy. At this stage Fitz had been very similar to poor Donnie Gill; they had both gone to the Academy hoping to find somewhere to fit in, whilst conducting the research which to them was second nature, but to others were the incomprehensible experiments of genius'. However it was at the Academy Fitz had encountered the first bit of good fortune in his miserable life, something Donnie had never been granted- Fitz had found Jemma Simmons, or rather she had found him, and persisted with him, intent on becoming his friend. And to this day he did not know what he had done to deserve her. Her sunny disposition, her ready and stunning smile and her acceptance of him, her way of reading his mind had made him love her almost as soon as he had met her. She was his family and the first person he had in his life that had stuck around long enough for him to believe she actually cared for him.

This novelty had made him initially paranoid that he was going to lose her, and their first few years of friendship were fraught with his fears that she would find another friend, or a better lab partner, or a boyfriend who would take away his treasured presence in his life. But it never happened. And after their christening by all who encountered their combined brainpower as 'Fitzsimmons' he realised just how strong their bond was. Everyone else saw them as one entity and he wanted nothing more than to work in perfect harmony with this marvellous girl by his side for the rest of his life. He at last found that acceptance, the inner peace, he had sought since childhood. He had found it all through Jemma, the Simmons to his Fitz, the kindest, bravest girl, no, woman he had ever met in his life. She may be socially awkward but she was also brilliant and she had taught him that he was too. In short, to him, Jemma Simmons was perfect.

As he thought this his eyes drifted to, were subconsciously drawn to, the photographs that adorned his bunk wall, and the happy memories they inspired. The first showed him and Jemma in their first lab, at Sci-Ops, the lab where they had done some of their most notable work, in the comfort of their own space. When the keys had been handed over, Jemma had insisted they mark the moment by taking a 'selfie' (his mouth turned up as he recalled fondly how excited she got when she picked up American slang). This photo was for a photo album she had received for her 18th birthday, a gift along with a digital camera, from her parents who wanted her to document her life in America so they could share it with her when she visited home. It had become more of a scrapbook, as it not only contained photographs but cinema tickets, museum leaflets and exam transcripts. Each and every photograph in this book featured him, and he had been supremely touched that she considered the time she spent with him worth documenting, especially in such detail, one evening when he had leafed through it with her.

But the photo that was on his wall was special to him as it showed him looked as happy as he had felt in that moment. He was beaming at the camera, an arm around Jemma and she in turn looked equally as thrilled as he, her eyes sparkling, shining with excitement, her smile wide and uninhibited, her face slightly flushed; the picture captured her spirit and she looked breathtakingly beautiful. Though the photo had hardly been the first time he had noticed how attractive his best friend was, it was the first time he remembered feeling affected by it, which is why he'd requested a copy from Jemma. He had wanted a reminder of how Simmons made him feel, of how happy he was when they were together, for times when he was feeling low, such as now. She never failed to cheer him up.

The second photo was the 'selfie' they had taken in Peru during the 0-8-4 mission, their second field mission with this team. When joining Coulson's team had first been considered he had been terrified of altering the status quo, the routine that he loved so much, that he and Jemma had developed over their years working together. Especially not to go gallivanting in a massive plane, facing god knows what-Leo did not like feeling out of control of his own life. But at first he had found it hard to define quite why he felt so scared at the prospect of this new work, apart from the prospect of losing Simmons to the adventure she had always craved, and his inability to say no to her was the reason they were both currently on the Bus. He couldn't have heard her say she was going with or without him (the fact that she would have refused to go if he didn't want to hadn't even occurred to him).

However, with hindsight, he now realised what the major cause of his disquiet had been during those initial talks about their transfer to this team. As he looked at their smiling, naïve faces in the 0-8-4 photo and compared it with the terror that followed them doggedly since, he realised that what he had most feared had been best summed up by Ward, when he had hurled a statement at Fitz which had haunted him since Ward had uttered the words,

"Are _you_ going to take them on? Keep us safe? Or am I going to have to save Simmons' ass- _again_?"

The rage in Ward's voice and the scorn in the other agents voice as he had uttered what had subconsciously been Fitz' fear since he had stepped foot on this plane. he had been immediately transported back to watching his parents, frozen, unable to help his mum in the face of such violent rage. Ward radiated the same powerful hatred as his father had that day, that disdain for Fitz' existence, that he reverted to the scared little boy he had been that day- and maybe, deep down inside, he still was.

Simmons was too precious to him to lose and he abhorred the lack of control he had over her safety while they were on the Bus. That moment, the point when she had tumbled from the plane, torn from their team, sacrificing herself to protect them all was imprinted on his brain; it was single handily the worst moment of his life so far. And that was perhaps the most terrifying part, he knew it was only 'so far' because who knew what threats lay ahead of them and what noble actions Simmons could take in the future, disregarding her own safety, the thing that was most important to him.

Because Fitz knew he could not live without Simmons, not now he had found her. She was the other half of him, his better half in every sense of the word. They had been by each other's side the whole damn time. She was his best friend, his true family and the person he loved more than any other. And even if sometimes he had trouble concretely defining this love, if sometimes her kind nature and radiant happiness caused his heart to skip a beat, he knew that she was his person. The person who had given him hope when he had had none and he would defend her to the death- to his death. Nearly losing her had made him acknowledge that he would survive her being taken from the land of the living. If her life were lost then so would he be.

He had never told Jemma why she was his only true friend. He had other 'friends', more like regular acquaintances from the Academy, as she had forced him to socialise with her during their year at the training. And now of course he also had the team, who he was learning to value more each day. But Jemma was the only person he truly trusted because she had persevered with him, had wanted to get to know him, the real him, when no-one else had been willing to understand him, not even his own father. Fitz had never told Jemma the whole truth about his early childhood, and the memories that continued to plague him. Sometimes he thought he should but then he remembered that she already thought he was scared of fieldwork; what if she thought his reason for being scared, his reversion back to boyhood when faced with someone shouting at him, made him seem even more pathetic. He couldn't take him voicing aloud the thoughts that tormented him. He'd just about handled it coming from Ward, but only just. He couldn't take it from her.

So Fitz stayed in his bunk, re-living his worst memory, Ward's words and pondering why exactly he couldn't live without Jemma. He continued to torture himself with his perceived short comings, and such was his unrelenting self loathing that he failed to notice Simmons standing at the door of his bunk, concerned expression on her face, her heart breaking at the misery on his, and the determination in her eyes, to get to the bottom of his pain; they would fix it together, as they always did.

**Thanks for reading! Sorry for any mistakes, this wasn't Beta'd so they're all my fault! I wrote this during a train journey, I hadn't realised how much Fitzsimmons had taken over my life until I was so engrossed in writing this that an hour and a half flew by! Please review if you have the time, this is only my second published story ever on here so any constructive criticism or comments would be very welcome! :)**


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